Don't Bring a Knife to a Fist Fight
by OcarinaOfUnclaimedUsernames
Summary: It was safe to say that Izaya Orihara had landed himself in a lot of trouble. Maybe he deserved it, and maybe he knew that much himself. He should have been scared, but he was excited. This was new, and the only question now, was how long would it be before it got old.
1. Chapter 1: Coward

***Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara or any affiliated characters***

 _It was safe to say that Izaya Orihara had landed himself in a lot of trouble. Maybe he deserved it, and maybe he knew that much himself. Part of him, however, wanted to believe that it was just some twist of fate, that one of his pawns had finally turned against him. He should have been scared, but he was excited. This was new, and the only question now, was how long would it be before it got old?_  
 _Over the course of a few weeks, the informant had been dropping bombs on the newly revived Blue Squares gang, finding it amusing to watch them squirm: Especially the one called Aoba. Oh yes, he was extra fun, although the other couldn't quite put his finger on why just yet. Something about him just seemed so… familiar. The 24-year-old had regularly set police on them, hiring Celty to stalk them by offering her to "transport" pointless goods to the places he knew they'd be hanging around. This way he could find out exactly what their plans were and have the cops, or worse, another gang waiting for them upon arrival. Their numbers had been declining, but in all his fun, the broker had made the mistake of not paying enough attention to the nit-picky details. It was late one night that he was finally confronted._

~Izaya's POV~

"You know, there's a saying that goes…" Izaya jumped sideways, out of the way of another attack. "Don't bring a gun to a knife fight." Another, this one aimed at his left side. He parried it as usual and leaped behind the man, having yet to withdraw his own weapon. These lowlifes actually thought they could take him on and win… pathetic. With any luck, he wouldn't even /need/ his knife. He had everything he needed to outdo these men with agility alone. "But I think it should go…" He leaned in closely. "Don't bring a knife to a fist fight. That just seems so much more pathetic if you ask me."  
"Shut it, Orihara!" The man he was behind spat, and the informant leaped backwards just in time to dodge the blade the gangster swung out. Although this man was the current target of Izaya's verbal attacks, approximately ten of them had him cornered in the alley behind Russia Sushi. Or maybe "cornered" was too generous. No, they had attempted to snatch him quietly, but so far their prevalence had been lacking. Izaya was too swift.  
Ignoring the request, as he generally did, the informant continued:  
"You see, if you bring a gun to a knife fight, those who equipped themselves with knives were already preparing for a fight. It's weapons to weapons, a fair trade. You can throw a knife the same way you can shoot a gun, and just because one requires less skill to manage, doesn't make the other unmanageable." Attacks were coming left and right now, but the broker was barely phased. This was nothing compared to what Shizu-chan could throw. These men were weak, and useless, and it was fun to taunt them. "However," he proceeded, "bringing a knife to a fist fight puts you at an immediate advantage, against someone who may not have thought they were going to be fighting at all. It makes you..." He narrowed his eyes, smirking. "A coward."  
Deciding he was getting bored of these useless attacks, Izaya was about to take off when something happened that he didn't expect. He turned around, and his momentum was used against him, as he drove himself directly into the blade of one of the stranger's weapons. He choked out and froze, looking down at the blood that had begun to drip in small amounts down the blade. He supposed because it hadn't been pulled out, it must be clogging the wound, preventing bloodflow.  
Damn… not this again…  
His vision was growing blurry more quickly than he wanted to admit, and he gasped when the knife was removed. Even Izaya Orihara couldn't help but succumb to the consequences of internal damage, and he could hear snickering from around him. A hand grabbed the back of his head and pushed him onto his stomach, face into the ground.  
"Time for bed, rat." Someone said. Someone… he couldn't even tell voices apart anymore. Or words… everything was slurring together.  
He'd underestimated these people. He'd gotten too ahead of himself. He'd…  
"Damn…" He uttered, eyes fluttering shut. "Didn't expect…" he tried to finish his sentence, but the darkness creeping up in his vision beat him to it. Before he could utter another word, the young man was unconscious.

~Shizuo's POV~

Maybe it was the fact that there was a fist jammed into his throat. Maybe that was what had set him off. He didn't understand why he'd ended up in this situation. Most people knew him by this point, his reputation for being completely unmanageable.  
But this man clearly did not. He was some street thug, or maybe he was just wasted. Either way, after ridiculing the blonde's clothes outside Russia Sushi, he attacked the tall man, swinging and hitting Shizuo just beneath his adams apple. The blonde took it, but remained in place, an eyebrow twitching with irritation.  
"I told you to lay off." He informed the other, whose demeanour had changed from confident to terrified. After all, normally after taking such a hit, anyone would at least have choked. Not Shizuo Heiwajima, though.  
"Hey…" the stranger retracted his arm. "Hey man, I… I didn't mean anything by it okay? Listen I-"  
"Just…" Shizuo cut him off, before reaching out and grabbing his wrist with an almost bone-shattering grip. "What do you get out of picking fights…" his voice was raising, and in an instant he was spinning, dragging the other man along with him. "With complete strangers, huh?!" Just like that, Shizuo let go, and the man who'd attacked him was sent flying across the street. Shizuo waited until he landed before sighing, running a hand through his hair. He liked to say he hated violence, but he also wouldn't deny the relief that always flooded him after his outbursts. Holding things in was such a pussy thing to do.  
He had just pulled out a cigarette to wind down when he heard a familiar voice around the back alley. A voice that he hated… a voice that he loved to hate.  
"Izaya…" he growled, picking up a nearby bench with ease and dragging it down the street and around the corner. He was just about to go kill the bastard when he discovered several people who were apparently trying to do the same. Shizuo's ears stopped picking up sound, and all he could do was watch. Something about bringing a knife to a gun fight… or a fist to a knife… never mind. God, that flea bag never knew when to shut his damn mouth. Although he wanted to move, he couldn't, and maybe that was because he didn't know what to do. Leave? No… no something about this didn't sit right. Killing Izaya was /his/ job. Not some petty street gang. So… attack? No… that would save the asshole, and Izaya would never let him live it down. Fearing contradiction, he stayed rooted to the spot, even after the other had been stabbed. It wasn't until the men had scooped the informant up that he moved, but he didn't move away, nor did he move closer. He kept his distance, and began to follow them. He didn't know why, and he didn't care to, but something in his gut was telling him that this wasn't right. Besides, maybe Izaya deserved this, and maybe Shizuo was interested to watch him reap the consequences of his actions for once.


	2. Chapter 2: Pest

~Shizuo's POV~

That damn flea. Shizuo had been following this stupid gang through the alleys for over an hour now, and had still barely made any progress. The rain was coming down hard, a rather recent yet impactful development as it soaked through his clothes and drenched his hair. He'd long since dropped the bench he'd been dragging earlier, figuring that if a fight ensued, he'd find a way to win with just his fists.  
Izaya looked pale. Maybe it was just the lighting, but the raven man looked almost sickly. Were these bastards just going to let him bleed out? That didn't seem like a very good plan. They could at least torture him for a while… something to make him atone for whatever the hell he'd done to wind up in this mess.  
Just when he was about to lose his patience and beat the crap out of the thugs, they stopped. Alarmed by the sudden halt, the blonde took a few steps back and hid behind a corner, glancing around it and trying to figure out what the others were saying. His lip-reading skills had never been of much use, and they unfortunately remained that way.  
Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit. Just what the hell were they doing?! And why the hell did he care so much? This was stupid. This was so stupid. He needed to hit something, throw something. GOD, he hated this.

Shizuo did what he needed to, and focused all his energy into his left hand. His fingers curled into a tight fist, so tight that his nails dug into his palm, and his knuckles turned white. That fist shook, and he let it. It was a technique that Shinra taught him to help him "manage" his anger. Why was he angry? he didn't know… but he decided to chalk it up to the idea that Izaya had somehow dragged him into this mess by being an idiot as per usual.  
Once a little calmer, he turned the corner again, but the men were gone, a door to one of the more abandoned looking buildings shutting behind them. He rushed up to it and pressed his ear to it, listening for anything he could pick up. He made out only one thing:  
"This is going to be fun."

~Izaya's POV~

He hadn't awoken during the cauterizing process, which was probably in his best interest. He hadn't awoken for the bandaging of his wound either. Izaya awoke a few hours after he'd been restrained, a blindfold covering his eyes. This was interesting… judging by the rough texture of his restraints, he could assume with almost complete certainty that he was bound by rope. His position suggested that he was sitting on a chair, and the sound he made when he tapped a fingernail against it suggested the chair was metal. He rocked forwards slightly, barely lifting the back legs of the chair off the ground before setting them down as gently as he could. So… the chair wasn't bolted to the ground then. That could only mean that this room wasn't specifically _designed_ to torture people in. So, what was this, then? An interrogation? Some sort of fetishism he'd been unaware of?  
"He's awake." Izaya heard a whisper, and a smirk grew on his face. He figured he wasn't supposed to hear that.  
"You must be amateurs." He spoke clearly, then laughed, only to wince at the sensation of a painful pulling just above his lower right hip.  
Right… he'd been stabbed. Trying to play it off, he continued.  
"Anyone knows that when you blindfold someone, it heightens their other senses. Did you really think I couldn't hear you? That's almost laughable." He heard footsteps, and his lips pulled into a grin, although his fists were balled behind his back with uncertain anxiety. Yes, even Izaya was capable of feeling mildly fearful. However, he wouldn't use it as an excuse to "tone himself down" or anything like that.  
"Laughable, huh?" The voice he'd heard was closer now, and before he could reply, the blindfold was ripped from his head. The informant squinted against the harsh light for a moment, before his eyes finally adjusted and settled on the bulky figure in front of him.  
Actually, bulky was an understatement. The man was tall, covered in so much muscle that the informant failed to see how his bones didn't shatter every time he flexed. He had deep black hair and the slightest hint of stubble shadowing the lower half of his face. Behind him were two other men, both with light brown hair. One was tall and lanky in structure, the other tall as well, but more filled out… maybe a little _too_ filled out. The raven haired man shoved his thumb into Izaya's side, pressing against his stab wound and causing the other's breath to hitch. The informant gritted his teeth and balled his fists a little more tightly, grunting. "We'll see who's laughing."  
"That's your…ah…" he took a moment to get ahold of his breathing before continuing. "That's your… line…? You really are an amateur, aren't you?" The man pulled away, and Izaya took a moment to scan his surroundings. This room was almost empty, walls coated in chipping paint and floors so filthy it was as though all life and no life had existed here simultaneously. "I take it you're not part of the Blue Squares, you're way too stupid for that. So, what are you going to do? Torture me? Put a price on my life? C'mon, at least make it interesting-" He was cut short by a punch to the face, one that actually hurt a lot more than he cared to admit. He'd only been hit like that so many times, but he could equate it to the pain he'd felt when Simon had sent him flying all that time ago. The force of the impact was enough to knock the chair onto its side, and Izaya's head hit the ground, causing his ears to ring. He didn't even have time to recover before his hair was pulled, yanking his head from the floor.  
"You're right about one thing, we ain't the Blue Squares." The muscled man smirked, then let go. He didn't bother hoisting Izaya up, simply left him on his side. The weight of the chair was hurting his arm, it almost felt as though it was going to break. "See, we're part of the Orange Hexes. We work low key, so you wouldn't know us. Not unless you're part of a gang that likes to play dirty."  
Izaya coughed, then managed the will to speak.  
"Ahh, I see. So, you take care of the guys that other colour gangs don't want to deal with themselves?" He couldn't help but let out a little laugh when the two in the back nodded their heads. "You realize that makes you a gang of lapdogs, right? Just doing whatever others want and profiting. I don't think I've ever heard of such a pathetic excuse for a colour gang in my life! You're ambitionless, how disappointing." He should have known nothing good could come out of what he was saying. In fact, he almost always knew the second he opened his mouth someone would probably want to kill him. His hair was taken, and he grunted out again, this time having his entire body and the chair pulled up into a sitting position once again.  
"Look Orihara, I'd quit the act now if I were you." The muscle said, a smirk appearing on his face. "We coulda let you bleed out on the pavement, but we decided it'd be more fun to dish out some justice. See, the guys and I, we've been real bored, so we decided to have some fun with ya. You know, see just how far we can push ya before you snap. Sound like fun?"  
Izaya sighed. In all honesty, this was already beginning to feel like such a nuisance.  
"Sounds rather boring actually." He confessed. "See, what you're saying sounds a whole lot like you really do intend to torture me, and I don't have time for that. It's a busy world out there, so why would I sit in here and let you 'entertain' yourselves, when there's much better entertainment elsewhere?" He wouldn't say it aloud, but he was getting a little uneasy. He knew he was in a vulnerable place, a little too well in fact. He couldn't escape, and he couldn't talk his way out of things either. Even he wasn't sure why he was talking back so harshly. Maybe it was to save himself his pride, or just to hold onto his sanity.  
The man released Izaya's hair and rolled his eyes, having the audacity to turn his back on the broker and walk away. Izaya's own demeanour faltered for a moment as his eyes narrowed. This guy… just what did he have planned? What drove him? And more importantly, why was he-  
"You want to know why you're here, right?" The muscled man asked, and this time, Izaya didn't talk back. "Huh. Thought so. Well the truth is, the black bike sold you out, and the kid in the Blue Squares hired us to get rid of you. Let's make one thing clear, Orihara. No one gives a damn that you're gone. You're a pest, and when you're gone, they're all gonna celebrate. I can take your backtalk all night and sleep well knowing _I'm_ the leader of the gang that exterminated you." He looked over his shoulder and grinned, before snapping his fingers. Instantly the two other men were in front of him, looking him up and down. Interesting… so Celty had finally turned on him. He supposed he deserved it after the way he'd been treating Shinra, especially after setting the cops on him while he was in the hospital. But still… something wasn't adding up here.  
"What should we do?" The lanky man asked.  
"Anything you want." The leader replied over his shoulder. "Just don't kill him yet. I want his screams singing me to sleep." The door opened, then closed, and the two remaining men folded their arms.  
"This'll be fun." The bigger one said, and the more slender one nodded in agreement.  
"So much fun. Don't you agree, informant?"  
For the first time in his life, Izaya remained silent.


	3. Chapter 3: Liar

~Izaya's POV~

So much fun. Izaya wasn't sure what aggravated him more: The idea that he was about to go through a lot of needless suffering, or the fact that these men seemed to think of something so cliché as entertaining. Izaya's entire life revolved around the principle that humans were interesting because they reacted differently to different situations, and that by exposing them to new things, it was almost impossible to predict how they might respond. However, with exposure to something such as physical pain, the reaction would undeniably be the same for every different human. Screaming, crying, begging, muscles tightening, shortness of breath… didn't it get boring? How could _this_ , something so plain, be someone else's idea of fun?

It only added to how stupid the man felt his captors were.

Realizing he hadn't spoken in a while, he opened his mouth to begin again. He was starting to recognize that talking back had become more of a defense mechanism than anything. However, before he could get a word out, the larger of the two gang members withdrew a knife from his pocket and plunged it deep into Izaya's left shoulder. His eyes widened, and he choked out what would have been a scream if not for the mix of pride and shock that was beginning to overwhelm him. He breathed out shakily, and cried out briefly once it was withdrawn, collapsing forwards just for a moment.

"Interesting choi…ce…" he tried, but gritted his teeth and threw his head forwards, eyes pressing shut. Ignore the pain… ignore it. He was Izaya Orihara, he wasn't this easy to take down.

"Interesting indeed. You didn't scream at all." The slim man said, and the large one nodded.

"Not at all. That doesn't make you special though." The other replied, and Izaya gritted his teeth. These guys were terrible at reading people, and it was further proven when one of them raised a foot, shoving it between the info broker's legs and pressing down painfully hard.

"Ah-" He let a small protest slip, brow furrowing.

"Maybe he likes it, then." The bigger one said. "Maybe that's why he didn't scream. Do you like it, Mister Informant?" The further the other ground his heel into the informant's crotch, the tenser he was becoming. He attempted to close his legs, but was unable to with his ankles bound to the legs of the chair.

Again he remained silent. Izaya wasn't obligated to give out any information about himself. He was a collector and distributor of information, not the other way around. The more others knew about him, the more his business plummeted.

"I think he likes it." The lighter one said, yanking Izaya's head up by his hair. He never considered himself an easily angered person up until this point. He often found it amusing when others became angry, and would provoke them even further, even if his life was in danger. Shizuo was a prime example of this development. He could taunt Shizuo to the ends of the earth, even after being hit by everything the other could throw at him. But now, in this position, being mocked by these… idiots… he couldn't help but feel irritated. He wondered if this was the effect he had on Shizuo after all…

Lost in thought, he didn't realize that one of the men had withdrawn a different knife… this one was more slender and precise looking.

"People say you can't be trusted." The lanky man's words snapped him back to reality. "But they trust you anyways." With a seemingly unchanging expression, the man cut open Izaya's shirt and pushed it down his shoulders, exposing his chest. "They say all sorts of things about you, Mister Informant, but what if they could see who you really were?" The fatter man took his place behind Izaya, holding a knife to his throat and keeping his head back. The raven man looked up at him with narrowed eyes, but his expression quickly changed when he felt that blade digging into his chest just below his right nipple. He gasped out, the sudden intake of oxygen causing his throat to expand and press a little harder against the blade of the second knife. He tugged unconsciously at his restraints as the knife in the slender man's hand drew slowly down his chest. It was removed, and before he could recover a new line was sliced into him, this time horizontal.

"Are you crying, Mister Informant?" The fatter man asked, and Izaya realized that tears were stinging the corners of his eyes. He wasn't sobbing, but his body was physically responding before he could acknowledge it. "Are you going to scream? The boss wants you to scream." He gritted his teeth as another line was drawn down his chest next to the others, but when suddenly the tip of the knife was pushed into him and twisted, he couldn't help it. A cry ripped itself from his throat, one so pathetic sounding, he didn't even recognize it as his own. It was a sound that, the moment it was done, had deleted itself from his consciousness. This was a habit he had formed unconsciously to spare his pride. If he ever said or did anything out of character, or, he supposed, out of what he _perceived_ as good character, he lived as though it had never happened.

He continued to let out shouts of agony, unable to help himself now that it had begun, and they only became louder when the slender man put the knife away and pulled out a blowtorch. "I think we should remove his dirty hands after this." He said, and the one with the knife to Izaya's throat nodded in agreement. "Or, have you ever heard the term 'an eye for an eye' Mister Informant? I wonder if you have enough eyes to repay your debts."

~Shizuo's POV~

Shizuo had debated leaving. He didn't like that he was forcing himself to sit through all this conversation. The blonde was crouched outside a window at the right end of the room where the flea was being held. He could see everything, and hear most things, apart from some dialogue.  
"Does he ever shut up?" He mumbled to himself, still amazed by the fact that the other man could talk back, even in such a vulnerable position. He heard almost everything, from what they planned on doing to him, to the fact that Izaya seemed to find all of this very boring.

What an idiot. He was being held captive, couldn't he at least pretend to be normal for once? What a nuisance. Maybe these men couldn't see through Izaya's façade, but Shizuo certainly could. He knew the other had to be at least somewhat afraid. He knew, because although he was being snotty at first, he had since stopped saying anything… stopped answering questions.

Shizuo watched the leader leave, knowing what was coming next. Izaya seemed to as well, as he shifted in his seat, even if he wasn't registering it. Shizuo knew that Izaya tended to ignore his own responses to things, as in life he considered himself a viewer rather than a participant. He was interested to see how being forced to participate might affect him, but something also didn't sit right with Shizuo. It was something he tried to shake, but the moment he heard that shriek, and the sob that occurred after, he couldn't anymore. His own fists were balled, teeth gritted, and the more pitiful sounds Izaya made, the harder it was becoming for the blonde to just sit idly by. He didn't understand why he was feeling this way so suddenly. All his life, all he'd wanted was to see Izaya suffer the way he made Shizuo and all the people around him suffer. But this… this was just too much. He couldn't decide who he hated more: Izaya, or the assholes tormenting him.

The screams stopped, and a blowtorch came out, presumably to melt the flea's skin back together. This was when Shizuo chose to stand. He didn't understand it, and he didn't care anymore. He had no idea how he felt, why he felt it, what he was doing, or what he would do after. Thoughts raced through his mind so quickly that he could barely tell one apart from the other, but in this moment, he was doing what he had to, just to make them stop.

Shizuo arrived at the back door of the abandoned building and knocked. Izaya's screams stopped, and he heard the blowtorch shut off. He supposed this place was in the middle of nowhere, and that was why no one else heard. Or maybe people were just doing what people generally did and ignoring the sounds.  
Shizuo heard footsteps, and when the door opened, even though the lanky man stood right before him, all Shizuo could hear was the shaky, broken breathing of the restrained informant.

"You got business here?" The man in the doorway asked, and Shizuo looked away from Izaya for a moment, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket.

"You could say that." The blonde replied simply. Damn… he was about to get his hands real dirty for the sake of some stupid fleabag he didn't even like. Izaya should consider himself lucky, because this was a one-time deal. If Shizuo hadn't been feeling so generous, the information broker would undeniably meet a worse fate than he probably even realized.

"Shizu…ch…" He heard a breathy laugh from the centre of the room, and saw Izaya, his head hung now that the knife had been pulled away from his throat.  
"Shut up." Shizuo replied, and even through all the pain, he could see the faintest smirk on the raven's lips.

So they hadn't broken him completely. He supposed that was good at least.

"I don't know what you think your business is…" the lanky man said, lighting the blowtorch and holding it dangerously close to Shizuo. "But the informant's off limits. I'd suggest leaving before you meet the same fate."

Oh, alright. So, that was how it was going to be.

"You know, I really don't like violence." Shizuo explained, grabbing hold of the torch and crushing it in his palm. The man in the doorway narrowed his eyes and dropped it, pulling out a knife. "But if I've gotta get a little violent to stop some violence…" He forced his way inside, ignoring the knife and looking to the right corner of the room at a staircase. He doubted anyone else was in the building, so he was sure a minor safety hazard like this wasn't going to affect anyone. This in mind, he walked calmly to the stairs and grabbed ahold of the metal railing, beginning to pull. Bolts flew off a few at a time as he unhinged it from the ground. Shizuo turned around with a smirk, holding it up. "Then I'll do what I have to do!"

Shizuo had blacked out from rage many times, and this was one of those times. When his vision shifted back into focus, he found the room deprived of one man, the window broken where he'd been tossed out. The other man lay in a heap in the corner. A few other men were strewn about too… they must have attacked him when they heard the commotion. All the men were clad in some sort of orange wear, and he realized they were probably members of that very same gang. Sitting in the centre of the room, eyes covered by raven hair, was Izaya. He was naked from the waist up, panting and shivering a little. Across his naked chest, a word was carved. It was a little hard to make out with all the blood and burns, but he knew what it said:  
"Liar…" he breathed, making his way to the other and sighing.

"Honestly Shizu-chan…" Izaya's voice broke, but he was still trying to act in control, even going as far as to tug at the restraints, just to see if he could act like he'd /let/ the men do this to him. "Always finding me at my worst."

"You're always at your worst." The blonde grunted, kneeling and beginning to unbind the other's ankles, then reaching around to untie his wrists as well. Izaya fell forwards more quickly than he'd anticipated, and he caught the raven, who winced and gasped sharply.  
Shizuo rolled his eyes, but inwardly he was concerned. He didn't know why, considering he hated the flea, but right now he just needed to focus on getting Izaya some help.

"C'mon, you dumb bastard." He said, lifting the informant as though it was nothing and cradling him in his arms. Izaya didn't protest. He simply fell against the other. He was probably in shock… it was amazing this guy could have even mustered what he'd said earlier in this condition. Izaya had a serious complex about him.

"Where're you taking me?" The fleabag mumbled, but did nothing to protest. "I'm just… people watching."

"An old friend. And cut the crap Izaya." Shizuo shut him down, and the other frowned, but remained silent. Shizuo was kind of glad. At least his enemy would be well rested enough that Shizuo could kill him in a fair fight later.


	4. Chapter 4: Annoying

~Shizuo's POV~

Shinra's expression would have been comical, if not for how morbid the scene before him was. Izaya Orihara, unconscious in the arms of his enemy. A clotting stab wound on his shoulder, a bandaged one on his lower hip, and the word "Liar" carved into his chest.

"What did you…" Shinra trailed off, and Shizuo groaned, thrusting the informant out and offering him to the other.

"You think _I_ did this? I wish." He remarked. Shinra held his hands up defensively, knowing he couldn't hold the other.

"Just uh… put him over there." He nodded to the couch, then rushed to his room to get some supplies. "Celty's not home yet!" He called while Shizuo did as he was told, laying Izaya down on his back on the living room sofa.

"Mm…" He could have sworn he heard Izaya groan, watching his brow furrow a little.

"Quit whining." The blonde said, only to see the other's mouth twitch up in a small smirk. "If you're conscious why don't you say something?"

"Hurt-ah…" Izaya winced, just the notion of speaking seeming to cause him pain. He laughed shakily, voice breaking. "Hurts."

Oh… so he wasn't talking because he didn't want anyone knowing he was in pain. What an Izaya-like thing to do.

"You deserve it you know." The blonde informed him, and Shinra rushed back out.

"He's awake?!" The brunette asked, a little stunned and clearly having overheard the small exchange.  
"Barely." Shizuo replied, running a hand through his hair before standing. "You just deal with it. Hell, put him out of his misery for all I care. I'm going to take a shower."

"Oh…." The doctor licked his lips, glancing between the two. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, clearly perplexed. Shizuo supposed he had the right to be. After all, the blonde had just saved his worst enemy since middle school. "Alright, you just leave it to me then!" Was all the third-party member could offer. "But, Shizuo?"

"Hm?"

"We'll talk more after."

The tall man sighed, raising a hand to wave Shinra off. "Whatever. Just fix him up before he starts whining again."

Shizuo's shower had taken a lot longer than he'd initially expected. A half hour turned to an hour, and even after the water went cold he continued to just stand there. He hadn't washed himself at all; he'd simply stripped, climbed in, and stood in the stream.

What the hell was going on anyways? Why did he feel a knot in his stomach? Was it guilt? He knew he shouldn't have saved that bastard. But then again, if he hadn't, wouldn't he still be feeling this way?  
If this was all just some trick, he'd kill Izaya without even thinking about it. But… if it wasn't a trick… then what should he do?

"DAMMIT." Without thinking, the blonde balled a fist and slammed it into the shower wall, shattering one of the tiles. he froze for a moment before sighing. Great, just great. Now not only was he conflicted about Izaya, but he'd have to pay to fix this stupid wall.

Figuring that if he stood any longer with his thoughts the bathroom would end up in ruins, he finally stepped out of the shower, drying off and slipping his pants on. He didn't want to put his dress shirt on yet. It was white, and could get ruined unless he was perfectly dry, so he opted on giving himself a few minutes to air dry.

"Hey, Shinra." He said, stepping out of the bathroom, only to hear Shinra's voice talking to someone else.

"Whoa wait! You've gotta sit down!" The doctor was panicking, as per usual.

"I told you, I'm alright. Just patch me up doc, and I'll be on my way!"

"Izaya, stop messing around, I'm serious! You could-"

"Die? Yeah, if Shizu-chan comes out before I'm gone, I probably will." Something was off. Izaya sounded chirpy as usual… but there was _something_ off. Something in his tone was shaken. Then again, could Shizuo blame him after what he'd been through?

"Sure." Shizuo grumbled, stepping out from around the corner and making his presence known. "I went through all that trouble to save you just so I could kill you now."

A smirk formed on Izaya's lips. Maybe he hadn't quite registered his situation. Had he not seen the giant scar tattooing his chest?

"Ahhhh Shizu-chan! Did you wear that just for me?" The informant practically sang.

Shizuo gritted his teeth. "Listen here you-"

"Shizuo…" Shinra warned, standing and rushing to Shizuo, dropping his voice. "I gave him some pretty heavy painkillers. I don't think he really knows what's going on to the extent you and I do."

The blonde glanced between them, uncurling his fingers that he hadn't even realized had formed a fist until now. He sighed, turning his back. "Fine. But he's opening his wounds with all that chit-chat so find a way to shut him up."

"You know…" Izaya said from the couch. "I can _hear_ you, and I've just had a magnificent revelation!" He laughed, not even seeming to notice the blood that was already beginning to drip from the letter "i." "I used to think Shizu-chan was just a monster… but you're the most human of them all, aren't you?"

Shizuo looked to Shinra's pool of medical supplies. He already had some sort of machine plugged in with a mask attached. Shizuo didn't know what it was, but he didn't care at this point. Anything to shut this bastard up."I mean," Izaya continued, and Shizuo walked forwards, snatching the mask and putting it to the other's face, holding the back of the informant's head with his free hand.

"Shizuo, wait!" Shinra called, but the blonde didn't care about that either.

"Coming to the rescue of your own worst enemy? That's the most human thing I've ever seen!" Izaya talked even with the mask on, and Shizuo couldn't take it anymore.

"Shut up! You're so god damn annoying! Why the hell isn't this-" He stopped when he heard a clicking beside him, and when he looked to the source, realized Shinra had flipped a switch which had opened the valve of the tube and allowed whatever was in the machine to travel into the mask.

"You have to turn it on first." The doctor explained, and Shizuo's brow twitched with irritation.

"Shizu-chan…" Izaya laughed, but his breaths were getting slower, and his words were beginning to slur.

"Shut up." The blonde replied.

"Are you…"

"Just shut up!"

"In love?"

"SHUT UP!"

"Heh… thought… so…" Izaya's eyes closed, but even despite this a smirk remained on his features. Shizuo felt the other's head becoming heavy in his hand, and carefully moved to lay the informant back before removing the mask and standing.

"I'm leaving." The blonde said, making quickly for the bathroom and grabbing his clothes. He slipped his shirt on and continued to button it as he made his way out the door. "Kill him, or don't, I don't care."

"Shizuo-" Shinra tried, but the other was already gone, out the door and into the hallway.

~Izaya's POV~

Izaya knew he was in some deep shit. The moment he woke up, his entire chest felt like it was burning, and that pain only increased every time he breathed in or out. The man grimaced, groaning out and opening his eyes slowly. This roof… damn… he was at Shinra's, wasn't he?

"Izaya! Oh my god, you're awake!" The brunette rushed towards him, fast enough for the raven to flinch. He supposed he was still a little wary of sudden movements after his incident with the orange hexes.

"Unfortunately." He said, taking a moment to observe his surroundings.

"Shizuo brought you here!" Shinra continued, quickly rushing to the kitchen and returning with a full glass of water. "What happened Izaya? Do you remember-"

"Yeah, I remember, but if it's alright I don't really feel like talking about it." He raised a brow, his tone suggesting an impending threat if the other wasn't quick to change the subject. He brushed away the water as it was offered to him. "Where's Celty?" He inquired, and the doctor smiled.

"Oh, she's out on a job, but she should be back tonight!" The doctor chirped, his face lighting up the way it always did when he talked about his headless lover. However, after a moment his features returned to a more serious position. "You should really try to get some rest. You're hurt pretty badly. Was it another gang? Celty said you were messing around with the Blue Squares. Was it related to-" Izaya was quick to cut him off by sitting up, ignoring the pain that came with his movements. Damn. Damn that hurt _really_ bad.

"Thanks, but I'll pass." He said, a small smirk appearing on his face. He could tell Shinra wasn't buying his act. Or maybe he was, and the informant was just overthinking it. "I need to get back home, can't really stick around or people will start to question it." The man stood despite Shinra's protests, glancing about and realizing that his jacket was nowhere to be found, nor was his shirt.

"Izaya, I'm serious." Shinra urged when the other walked past him and to the closet, snagging a labcoat. "You're really hurt! You can't be walking around by yourself! Shizuo will-"

"And what will he do if I stay in one place?" The informant's tone dropped this time to an almost sinister level, and he threaded his arms through the labcoat, beginning to button it. "If you're really keen on helping… then don't tell Celty _anything_. I wasn't even here." After buttoning the last button, and before giving Shinra any more chances to say anything, he opened the door and left, his final words: "I'll send you a cheque" echoing as the door closed behind him.


End file.
